The coatrack cowered back into its corner, and the table moved to one side for a better view. Nissitha looked around, her eyes wide.
“They won’t hurt you,” Kilisha assured her.
“You said some furniture had been animated... ” Nissitha said, her voice trailing off.
“Yes, and we’ve found most of it, but we still need the couch. The one that used to stand over there.” She pointed.
“Oh,” Nissitha said. “What did it look like?”
Startled, Kilisha blinked. “Oh, you must have seen it. It’s been there as long as I’ve been Ithanalin’s apprentice!”
“I’ve never been in here before,” Nissitha said. “What did it look like?”
Trying to hide her astonishment that someone who lived just next door had never before been in Ithanalin’s parlor, Kilisha said, “It’s modest in size, enough to seat two comfortably, but three adults would be crowded. The wood is stained dark, and the front legs are carved in reverse curves, with claws on the bottom. The upholstery is red velvet, and the arms arc partially upholstered as well as the back and seat. It looks almost new-Ithanalin put a preservation spell on it when Telleth first started walking, so the children wouldn’t damage it.”
Nissitha nodded. “And it’s animated?”
“Just like the others,” Kilisha confirmed, a sweep of her arm indicating the chair, bench, and table.
“Where was it last seen?”
“The tax collector followed it, but he lost sight of it on the East Road heading west, where Low Street forks off.”
“So it could be anywhere?”
“I’m afraid so.” Kilisha hesitated, reluctant to say anything rude, but she was puzzled by Nissitha’s presence and questions. If she was a true seer, why would she need to ask all these questions? And if she was a fraud, why would she bother to ask all these questions? She had never before shown any signs of going out of her way to be helpful in the five years Kilisha had lived there. “Arc you going to help search?”
“I thought I might,” Nissitha said, with a toss of her head that sent a ripple down her lush mane of black hair.
It popped out before Kilisha could stop herself. “Why?”
Nissitha grimaced. “I don’t suppose you’d believe it’s just neighborhness.”
“Not... uh... well, you know,” Kilisha said.
“Well, it is neighborliness, partly,” Nissitha said, “but I admit it’s directed more at Adagan than at you or Ithanalin.”
Sudden enlightenment burst in Kilisha’s mind as a dozen scattered incidents over the past year suddenly fell together. Nissitha wasn’t married; neither was Adagan, and Adagan was a handsome, charming fellow perhaps a year or two younger than Nissitha-close enough in age that the difference didn’t seem significant, in any case.
Kilisha had suspected for some time that Adagan preferred men to women, but perhaps she was wrong-or perhaps Nissitha either hadn’t noticed or hoped to change that. Nissitha clearly wanted to impress Adagan with her enterprise and helpfulness by finding the runaway couch.
“And it would be good advertising, don’t you think,” Nissitha added, “to find this couch that a wizard can’t find?”
“I suppose it would,” Kilisha agreed. And it really didn’t matter why Nissitha wanted to help; any help was welcome. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, is there anything else you can tell me about it?”
Kilisha turned up an empty palm. “I can’t think of anything.”
“Does it have any known likes or dislikes?”
“No.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“I don’t know,” Kilisha admitted. “It’s big and heavy enough that I suppose it could do some damage if it wanted to. It shouldn’t be particularly aggressive, but I don’t really know which personality traits it got.”
“Can it do any magic?”
Startled, Kilisha considered that for a moment. A couch had no voice for incantations, no hands to gesture with, and the sprig-gan had gotten at least part of the athame’s magic...
“I don’t see how it could,” she said.
“Can it talk? Or fly?”
“No.”
“Why haven’t you found it? Did you try any divinations?”
“I don’t know any,” Kilisha said. “And all the diviners Yara asked were too busy with some big crisis in Ethshar of the Sands.”
“I heard something about that,” Nissitha said. “Someone’s declared herself empress and led a bunch of beggars from the Wall Street Field m taking over the overlord’s palace.”
“You mean Soldiers’ Field?”
“They call it Wall Street Field in the Sands,” Nissitha said. “It’s a better name, if you ask me, but the Soldiers’ Field name is traditional here, so it’ll probably never change.”
“But there are beggars in the Fortress there?”
“Palace,” Nissitha corrected. “No Fortress there. And yes, this empress invited a bunch of beggars and thieves to be her court.”
“How could she do that? Why didn’t the guard stop her?”
“Because she’s a magician. Some one-of-a-kind freak who came out of nowhere, and no one knows what to do with her. It’s a little like the Night of Madness, I guess.”
Kilisha didn’t remember the Night of Madness, when war-lockry first appeared; that had happened seven or eight years be fore she was born, Nissitha would have been a little girl at the time. Kilisha had heard about it, of course; it was supposed to have been much worse in the other two Ethshars, where there were more warlocks, but even here there had been trouble.
The idea that this trouble in Ethshar of the Sands might be something similar hadn’t occurred to her; she had been too caught up in Ithanalin’s situation to give it much thought. “Is it really that bad?” she asked.
It was Nissitha’s turn to raise an empty palm. “Who knows?” she asked. “Do you think this thing with Ithanalin and your furniture might be connected?”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Kilisha said. “The master tripped on a spriggan and spilled a half-finished potion, there wasn’t anything inexplicable about it.”
Nissitha blinked. “He tripped on a spriggan?”
Kilisha immediately regretted her words, but it was too late to call them back. “Yes,” she admitted.
“The great Ithanalin the Wise tripped on a spriggan?”
Kilisha sighed deeply. “Yes,” she said. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go around telling everyone that, though.”
“Oh, of course, of course, I’ll keep it quiet.” Nissitha’s grin belied her words. “So you don’t know anything more about where this couch is?”
“Nothing,” Kilisha confirmed.
“Then I suppose I had best go and start looking.” The self-proclaimed seer tucked her skirt clear of the chair’s inquisitive approach, then turned and stepped back out into the street. She called over her shoulder as she departed, “I’ll let you know as soon as I find it.”
“Thank you,” Kilisha called after her, but she did not feel very grateful. She closed the door, locked it, and ordered the latch, “Stay locked until I tell you-”
She had not finished the sentence when a knock sounded.
“Never mind,” she told the latch, as she opened it again.
Chapter Twenty-two
